


The Ship in Port

by NewEyes



Category: The Tillerman Cycle - Cynthia Voigt
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28138677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewEyes/pseuds/NewEyes
Summary: The Tillerman house was like that, full of little reminders, the marks of people long gone. Momma had used this wardrobe, the desk and the chair, the quilt with the white ruffles. Momma had slept here, done her homework here, and gotten ready to go out for parties here too, probably. Most of the time it was comforting to feel like her mother was near. But Maybeth knew it hadn’t been perfect here, when her Momma was growing up, and sometimes that seemed to linger in the air. The whole room was full of reminders. Ghosts.
Relationships: Maybeth Tillerman/Phil Milson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Ship in Port

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raspberryhunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberryhunter/gifts).



> Set roughly between Sons from Afar and Seventeen Against the Dealer.

Maybeth relaxed into the couch next to Phil and looked around the living room, glasses and plates scattered everywhere. 

“Yeah, there’s a fair bit to clear,” Phil noticed her gaze. 

She felt tired, most of the guests had already left and it was late for a school night. Jeff was back from college for the week so Phil had suggested a party, just some friends he’d known from school and other people who were still in town. Sammy and Dicey were busy so she was the only Tillerman there, but Jeff had offered to give her a ride back, so she’d decided to come anyway. She liked Jeff and Phil and she’d been curious to see where Phil lived. 

Phil seemed different here. They’d met in town a few times and she liked him—he still walked with the same relaxed, almost lazy, saunter she remembered from when he was in school. But here he seemed very much in his element, the farm was well taken care of and well managed, and he clearly took pride in it. He’d shown her around earlier, and when she mentioned how much she enjoyed baking, he offered to give her some apples from the family trees for pies. 

She looked over at him on the couch, but he was already looking at her, with an expression almost like wonder and he slowly took her hand. When she didn’t pull it away, he said, “You know Maybeth, I really like you,” he said, and from the look in his eyes she knew he didn’t mean as a friend. “I’d really like if...if you would go out with me.”

His hand on hers felt warm, but she felt frozen in the moment and couldn’t quite make her hand close over his in return. His eyes were warm and brown, and his blond hair fell across his forehead. 

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I…” she said and paused, trying to get together the words, figure out what to say. The moments stretched out.

“Do you not feel the same?” he asked softly, and she thought about it. She liked his eyes, his face, his beautiful hair. She liked the way he watched her when she sang, the way he smiled at her sometimes when they passed each other in town or at Millie’s. But she felt unsure, like she’d suddenly been thrown in water at the deep end, out of her depth, and her feet didn’t touch the bottom. She thought she’d known what she was doing, but looking at Phil, she suddenly felt lost, and all the certainty melted away.

“I…” she said, and then Jeff entered the room and they both startled apart. 

“Ready to go Maybeth?” Jeff said.

“Sure,” she said, and then she got up off the couch, careful not to look at Phil.

*

When she arrived home she headed up to her room, anxiety and worry buzzing around in her head. She methodically changed into her pajamas, let down her hair and started combing through it. Once she was done, she laid out her clothes for tomorrow on the wooden chair; the warm red dress Gram had made her, and a soft yellow jumper, in case it was cold in the early morning. As she closed the wardrobe door, her fingers brushed over the childish painting there, the woman with a tall crown walking in a garden, the castle and the small town below. 

The Tillerman house was like that, full of little reminders, the marks of people long gone. Momma had used this wardrobe, the desk and the chair, the quilt with the white ruffles. Momma had slept here, done her homework here, and gotten ready to go out for parties here too, probably. Most of the time it was comforting to feel like her mother was near. But Maybeth knew it hadn’t been perfect here, when her Momma was growing up, and sometimes that seemed to linger in the air. The whole room was full of reminders. Ghosts. She shivered slightly.

Maybeth peered at herself in the small mirror on the desk. She knew that she looked like Momma, people told her she did, and in her mind's eye she overlaid her own image in the mirror with Mommas. She tried to imagine her mother putting on makeup in this mirror, before going out to visit their father. Was she nervous, was she happy? 

Maybeth got into the bed and as she pulled the ruffled quilt over herself, she almost felt like if she turned her head to the side, she would see her mother lying next to her there too. Not as she’d last seen her, worried and unsure, but as she might have been as a young girl. Maybeth wondered what it would be like if Momma was here now, if somehow she’d ended up back here with them, with Gram. Sometimes life here felt a little lonely, though there were always things to do that kept her busy. Gram and Dicey were cut from the same cloth, in the way that she wasn’t. They worked hard for her, and they loved her, but sometimes she wondered what Momma would say, if she were here. She wondered what Momma would think about Phil, if she would like him. 

*

When Maybeth headed downstairs to the kitchen the next morning, Sammy was already sitting at the breakfast table.

“Hey M’beth,” he mumbled around a mouthful of toast.

“Hey,” she said.

He rushed to finish his mouthful and swallowed. “Did you have a good time at the party last night?”

“Yes, it was fun,” she said and walked over to pour a bowl of cereal.

“I heard Phil was there,” Sammy said

“Yeah, he was there,” she said carefully. 

“He seems alright, from what I’ve heard of him,” Sammy said. Maybeth kept her face turned away as she made up the milk powder and then poured it onto the cereal. Sammy had all the subtlety of a battering ram.

“Sure, he’s nice,” she said, and then walked over with her cereal and a spoon to sit at the table, opposite Sammy. 

“I’d like to meet him,” Sammy said. 

She knew what he meant, that if they were going to be together, Maybeth should bring him over. But she wasn’t sure herself yet, and she could almost picture her family standing there, grilling Phil on his intentions. Gram and Dicey staring him down fiercely, James questioning him on everything, Sammy ready to fight him, as if that would help her. She wanted to laugh.

“Maybe you should talk to Jeff about it, they’re friends,” she evaded.

Sammy looked a little disappointed, but also he had that determined, stubborn look on his face that Dicey had too sometimes. She wouldn’t be surprised if Phil suddenly found himself running into Sammy just by chance in town somehow...just a coincidence. She continued eating her cereal slowly and methodically. Sammy managed to cram the rest of the toast into his mouth and then jumped up, grabbing his school bag slung over the back of the wooden chair. 

“Don’t forget your lunch,” Maybeth said, pointing to the parcel on the table that clearly contained sandwiches and a slice of her homemade cake. Sammy spun around and grabbed his lunch with a grin on his face. 

“You’re the best Maybeth,” he said. “I’ll see you at school.” 

*

“Are you alright Maybeth, you seem a bit...distracted?”

She looked over at Mr Lingerle sitting on the chair pulled up by the piano. 

“I know it hasn’t been easy, now that James is at college too,” he said.

“It’s not that.”

“What is it?” he asked, but she just shook her head. “But it’s worrying you?”

She shook her head again, but Mr Lingerle didn’t look convinced. 

“Well, anyway, these are the exercises I want you to practice,” Mr Lingerle moved on, flipping through the book. “14, 25, 65.” Maybeth looked down at the piano. She could hear Mina humming in the kitchen and could smell the spices, probably something new the Tillermans hadn’t had before. She hoped Mina would teach her recipe. 

“The exercises aren’t as fun,” Maybeth said. “I like playing the music.”

“I don’t know many people who love the exercises,” Mr Lingerle said. “But it is important.

“I know,” she said and with the smell of food on the air, suddenly it came to her. “It's kind of like cooking a new recipe, do you think? I know how to dice an onion, so every time I come to it in a recipe, it’s easy. But if I didn’t know, if I hadn’t had the practice, then every time I came to that in a recipe it would be hard. I wouldn’t be able to focus on the whole dish because I would be stuck on the onion.

“Exactly,” Mr Lingerle said, and he flipped the practice book closed. “It’s the great trick of musicians. Everybody hears the final piece, but they don’t see the work that goes in, practicing and repeating the same bar over and over again until it’s right. Learning the scales and exercises.” 

Maybeth nodded. “I remember how much I practiced for the Haydn but now it’s easy to play.”

“You barely even need me anymore,” Mr Lingerle said and Maybeth felt sad—they didn’t have many lessons until he left for Chicago. But in some ways he was right, she didn’t really need him anymore, not to teach her piano. She knew what she needed to do, the things she needed to practice and how to learn new songs, but he’d been a constant presence in her life ever since she’d moved here, in a new school, struggling in class, hearing whispers in the hallway about how she was slow, stupid. Music had provided an escape. When she thought about how she felt learning the piano, she wondered if it was how other kids felt all the time in regular lessons. It was work, but not insurmountable, and at the end of your hard work, you ended up with something beautiful.

It felt like everything was changing, the ground spinning out from under her, people leaving her life for other things. Dicey was back home again, but for how long? James was away, learning interesting things that she could never quite grasp. Sammy would go away to play tennis, or maybe to study something else, but either way, he wouldn’t be here. Just her and Gram on this big empty farm to themselves.

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. “I think Mina is probably close to being done.”

“Well, it already smells so good,” Mr Lingerle said, smiling. “I’ll just use the restroom though,” he said and got up from the chair and headed for the door. 

Maybeth sighed, closed the piano lid and headed into the kitchen. Mina was stirring the pot of rice on the stove and she looked up when Maybeth entered.

“It’s almost ready,” she said, and so Maybeth started to get the plates out from the cupboard. “Are you alright?” Mina said, and Maybeth looked up in surprise. “Something’s bothering you, I can tell.” 

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I feel like I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s the problem?” Mina said, but Maybeth didn’t know how to start. “Is it schoolwork?” she asked.

“No,” she said.

“A friend,” she asked and Maybeth paused. She felt like a witness on trial.

“A boyfriend?” Mina asked.

“No,” she said slowly and Mina grinned. 

“But you want him to be?” Mina said, as she dished up the plates. It wasn’t just that, Maybeth wanted to reply, but when she looked up she spotted Gram hovering in the doorway, watching Mina serve up with an eagle eye. Gram didn’t find it easy, letting somebody else cook in their kitchen, but she needed more rest than she wanted to take, now that she was older. Maybeth remembered their conversation earlier. 

“We don’t want charity, girl,” Gram had said to Mina.

“And how many meals have I eaten here over the years?” Mina said, not backing down. “It’s hardly charity, if anything this barely comes close to balancing the scales. Let me make this for you. You’ll like it.”

“Hrmph,” Gram said, but Mina had won. 

Maybeth tried to do more around the house, lighten the burden for Gram, but it was nice to have someone like Mina in her corner who could fight, maybe not quite the way that Dicey would, but in her own way. Gram didn’t like it, and she still looked rebellious, scowling at the pan of rice as though it had personally offended her, but Mina was the one cooking, she had won. Mina didn’t let it bother her, she just kept dishing up. 

“Did you have a good time relaxing?” Mina said peaceably, ignoring Gram’s glaring.

Gram just frowned even harder and Maybeth couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her.

*

The meal was almost ready, so Maybeth headed outside and spotted Jeff sitting just under the paper mulberry tree, guitar in his arms. She could hear the faint sounds of him playing and practicing and headed over. When she grew closer, she saw him notice her and look up. He shot her a soft smile.

“How’s it going Maybeth?”

She smiled and nodded. “How are you?” she asked. 

“I’m good,” he said, but she thought he looked a little sad. 

“What are you playing?” she asked.

“It’s called Green Green Rocky Road,” he said. “I’m still trying to get the rhythm, but I’m almost there I think. Do you know it?” he said.

She shook her head, and he began to sing, plucking the guitar to accompany. He made a few mistakes, missed notes, but she still felt her feet begin to tap. She could hear in her mind the potential harmonies, how her voice could fit around the tune supporting it. 

“Tell me who you love…” Jeff let the last lines ring out. “Whaddya think?” he asked.

“I like it,” she said. “But that bit... “oooka dooka soda cracker”...what does that mean?” Jeff was smart, he would probably know.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he smiled. “But I like it anyway.”

“Me too,” she said. 

Jeff started tuning the guitar “I have to be in open D to play it,” he said. “So when I’m done I have to tune back.”

“I just came to tell you dinner’s ready, if you’re staying,” she said.

“Dicey…?” he asked hopefully, but at her expression his smile faded.

“She’s still working,” Maybeth said.

“Right,” Jeff said. “Right’o, as Sammy might say,” he said, imitating Sammy, and she laughed. She could tell he was sad Dicey wasn’t going to be there though. 

“I’ll tell her you were here,” she said.

“Thanks.” Maybeth wanted to make it better, but when Dicey got a certain plan in her head, changing her mind was like trying to change the course of a river, and Maybeth was only one person.

“I’ll stay for dinner,” he said. “That is, if Gram doesn’t mind?” She met his gaze and he looked away abashed, of course Gram wouldn’t mind. But Maybeth guessed he was feeling unsure maybe, with Dicey and everything, and she didn’t mind saying it. “Gram doesn’t mind,” she said quietly. Jeff got up from where he was sitting, brushed dirt off his pants, and tucked his guitar under his arm.

They headed back towards the house together. “So I spoke to Phil yesterday,” Jeff said suddenly. “He....you….”she could see Jeff thinking, trying to figure out the best way to say it. She remembered when they’d first met him, the way he changed whenever he spoke to them, adjusting, adapting, fitting into the family as though he’d always been there. 

“He asked me if I wanted to go out with him,” she took pity on him. 

“Yes,” Jeff said. “That’s what he said to me. Well, it was more like he panicked that he’d done something completely wrong. He likes you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. 

“Do you like him?” Jeff asked. “If you don’t it's okay, he wouldn’t push you. He wanted me to say that, you don’t have to worry or anything.”

“I like him,” she said, and Jeff just waited patiently for her to think, to find the right words for what she wanted to say. “But I don’t know if I can...”

“You don’t know if you want to be with him?” Jeff said, curiously. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said. It was difficult for her to say. “Sometimes I think about Momma, our Momma. You never met her,” she said.

“No,” he said. 

“Everyone always says we’re so alike, me and her,” she said. ““I don’t really remember her all that well,” she said. “But Gram mentions her, sometimes.” 

“Dicey showed me pictures,” Jeff said. “You do look alike.”

“I love Momma,” she said. “But she was unhappy a lot of the time.”

“You worry that you’ll end up like your Momma,” he said. 

“I don’t want to get lost.” 

They walked in silence for a few seconds, and Jeff was thinking about it. It was nice that he was thinking about it, and not just blindly reassuring her. 

“I don’t think you’ll get lost,” he said eventually. 

“But I could,” she said. “I’m not like Dicey or Gram or Sammy or even James. I know myself well enough to know that. They just go right through it, or even if James doesn’t, at least he knows how to think his way out of it.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, that they just go straight through it. And what they have, you have too, that determination,” Jeff pointed out. “I know how hard you work in school.”

“I’m not very good at school,” she said. “That doesn’t count.” 

“I think it does,” Jeff said. “And I don’t know if being smart like James always helps. I don’t think so, not always, you can’t always think yourself out of trouble. Otherwise everybody who was smart would be happy, and that’s not true.” 

“Things are changing,” she said. “Did you know Mr Lingerle is leaving for Chicago soon?”

“I heard he met someone,” Jeff said. 

“I’ll miss him.”

“I can understand that,” Jeff said. “I’ve only met him a few times, but I can tell he’s a good man.”

“I miss James, now that he’s at college. I miss Dicey when she’s gone, she’s gone so much of the time. It feels like everyone’s leaving,” she said. “Or will leave. What will happen to me then?” They reached the porch together and she turned to look back out at the fields. Jeff put his hand on her shoulder. 

“I do like it here, and I like living here,” she said. “But everybody’s leaving. Sometimes I understand Gram, how somebody could go crazy all by themselves, or like Momma, when all she had was us kids and we were so little.”

“You know, I think everybody has their own kind of trouble, things they have to deal with. Nobody ever really knows what the right path is, I certainly don’t,” his eyes flicked inwards and she could tell he was thinking about something—she couldn't tell what—but then he came back from wherever he’d gone. “We just do our best, I think. Loving people, caring for them…there are no guarantees. Even if you’re sure about something, time always changes everything,” he said. “Every time it’s a risk....knowing when to hold on and when to let go.” Jeff paused and took a second to think of what he wanted to say. “But saying that, you have people around you who love and care for you. I don’t think they’ll let you get lost.”

“What do you think I should do?” she asked. 

“I can’t tell you what to do with your own heart Maybeth,” he said, putting his hand on her arm. “But I’m always around. If you ever want to talk, just give me a call. And anybody who leaves, I'm sure they would say the same thing too. Maybe we’re gone here,” he said gesturing at the farm, “but we’re not gone here,” he said, resting his hand on his heart. “I think I can speak for Dicey and James and Sammy and when I say that. Anytime you need something, or if you're feeling lonely, you just need to give us a call.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“You’re not alone Maybeth,” he said. "You're not going to get lost."

When he said it like that, looking at her with serious grey eyes, it felt true. “Thanks."

"Sure," he said, and after a few seconds they turned to go in, but then suddenly Jeff paused. “You _do_ have my number right?”

“We have it,” she said.

*

The remaining Tillermans all stood together on the porch to watch their guests leave.

“Nice to have some peace and quiet again,” Gram grumbled. 

“You like it really though, don’t you?” Sammy teased as they turned into the house. “You coming Maybeth?” he asked. 

“In a minute,” she said. 

She felt something drawing her to the paper mulberry tree, and when Gram and Sammy had gone, she headed out in the dark, alone. The moon was out, so it wasn’t hard to see. She rested her fingers against the trunk of the tree, she couldn’t make out the details, but she could feel the rough texture of the bark, the whorls and swirls under her hands. 

“Hi Momma,” she said. “I’ve met someone. I think you’d like him.” There was no answer, but Maybeth could hear the whispering of the wind in the branches. “I’m going to try. I don’t know how things will go, but I want to try.”

There was only silence, but somehow, in her mind's eye, Maybeth thought she saw her mother smile. 

*

Maybeth was out in the garden, gathering tomatoes. The sky was blue and birds wheeled above her as she worked, the smell of tomatoes and dirt surrounded her. It was hot out and she was sweating, but it wasn’t a bad thing, not all the time. She wasn’t an athlete like Sammy, but all the Tillermans knew how to work. There was a pleasure in working hard and she couldn’t help but start to sing. “Green, green rocky road, promenade in green,” she sang, not entirely singing the topline, but adding in her own harmonies. She could almost hear her brothers and sister around, how their voices would go together, when they were all back together again. They would all be back together soon, for Christmas, and she was alone now, but not _really_ alone.

She heard tires and gravel of a car pulling into the driveway and lifted her head. Phil’s car. He got out and she saw him start towards the house, and then stop and turn. It was hard to make out, he was a faint figure, but she thought he was smiling. He had a box in his arms and as she squinted, she thought she could make out apples. Phil raised his hand in greeting, and she crooked the basket of tomatoes in one arm, and waved back.


End file.
